


Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum

by inichuinmylife



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:26:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6676006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inichuinmylife/pseuds/inichuinmylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...is exactly what poor provincial governor Honda Kiku will need after he's finished dealing with these tyrannical pirates (who aren't tyrannical at all - and that just makes things worse).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, after a long time with no motivation at all, I was finally struck by inspiration. To be told, this is actually a very old idea. I just couldn't do it until now. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> “Taxes were still paid in bolts of hemp and rice”: traditionally two common items for tax included rice and hemp cloth, though depending on the type of tax, other goods such as iron, seaweed, and crafted goods were also used. One bolt of material is 12 metres long.
> 
> Satsuma Province: a historical province in what is now Kagoshima Prefecture. Interestingly, there was actually a Honda clan there, though I don’t think they were governors. Its capital was Satsumasendai.
> 
> Tokonoma: a nicely decorated alcove in your home that you traditionally seat guests in front of (so they have their backs to it).
> 
> “When he was only just 5 shaku high”: shaku is a traditional measurement equivalent to about 30 cm. 5 shaku is supposedly just about 151 cm. I know that canonically Kiku is 165 cm, but historically Japanese people didn’t eat meat (or much of it at least) for religious (and legal) reasons, so I’ve made him a little shorter (okay, quite a bit shorter) to reflect that.
> 
> “...handed it to him with both hands”: it’s polite to hand people things with both hands, be it money, reports, files, books, anything. Trust me, people do notice.
> 
> Proposals: in those days, families would exchange their children’s details (i.e. name; date, and especially year, of birth; etc.) to see if they were a good match for marriage.
> 
> “We’re not even one ri from shore”: ri is another traditional measurement, equivalent to 0.3 miles. There is another usage of ri in Japanese, but the one used here is an older one, equivalent to the Chinese meaning of the same character (里, lĭ).
> 
> Whiskey, Johnny is apparently a real sea shanty. It fits Arthur pretty well, let’s be honest here. I’ve used several versions mixed together, it seems.

In those days, when emperors still took court to oversee the country’s affairs, and taxes were still paid in bolts of hemp and rice, a small seaside town in the Satsuma Province was besieged by pirates from a foreign land. The town chief, worried for the safety and wellbeing of his people, sent a messenger envoy to the provincial governor in the capital of Satsumasendai, asking him to ‘extend his virtuous presence’ and deal, ‘in all his boundless wisdom’, with the offending brigands.

The governor was young, having come into the position too soon in his tired life following the early and unexpected death of his father one year prior. He was a quiet man, unassuming in his ways and demeanour, and was well aware that many of his staff considered him indecisive and meek. But he was diligent as well, and felt keenly the pressures of proving to the populace – and indeed himself – that someone his age really could live up to the role.

So he sent a messenger ahead of him, assuring the distressed chief that his earnest request had been heard and that he would be there within the week. Arrangements were made for his bags to be packed and his affairs to be seen to, and by the time the sun had reached high noon, Honda Kiku was gone.

* * *

Three days later, Kiku found himself outside the chief’s residence, waiting to be admitted after ringing the bell. The village was quiet and of no real importance – most of the buildings were houses and there was no market, but a small shrine was nestled on the eastern hills, near a larger but currently deserted building that was probably used for festivities and communal gatherings. The chief’s residence was the largest building of all, and it was the one place in town that did not smell like freshly-caught fish. The quaint and otherwise wholesome scene was punctuated by the sight of masts, towering towards the heavens in their rupturing spires, and the blood-red stains of sails folded beneath them.

Pirates. But of course, that begged the question – why would pirates come to a village with nothing more than a run-down harbour and a few fishing boats? It made no sense.

Perhaps the chief could provide some insight. Whatever the answer was, this needed sorting out.

The gate eventually creaked open to reveal an elderly man with a noticeable stoop and the prickly beginnings of a beard. “Who’re you?” he asked grumpily, looking him up and down with more than a hint of suspicion. “Whatever it is you’re selling, I don’t want it.”

“I’m not selling anything, sir,” Kiku replied, slightly mystified.

“…Oh. Well, if you kids think you can get away with kicking footballs into my garden every day, you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Sir, please,” Kiku said, coming across slightly more defensive than he had intended to. For a second, he wondered what he had got himself into. “My name is Kiku Honda. I’m the provincial governor. You wrote to me about the…” he tried to think of a diplomatic way to phrase the problem, but there wasn’t one. “…Ah, pirates.”

The village chief looked at him like he had gone mad. For a moment, Kiku began to suspect that he had.

“You? _You’re_ the provincial governor? Don’t make me laugh!”

“…Is there something wrong?”

The old man carried on regardless, mumbling away to himself in a disapproving tone. “I swear, kids today… no respect, thinking they can just go around pretending to be someone they’re not… You wait until the governor gets here,” the chief said towards him, suddenly louder and more hostile. “Don’t think I’ll let this go unpunished!”

Kiku was, by nature, a calm person, and even then he did not feel the need to be offended. It was unusual to see a provincial governor this young, after all. But even he had his limits, and he wished that people would be a little more polite, even if they _did_ insist on questioning his identity and position. “Please,” he began steadily, without malice, “I _am_ the governor. Here’s my seal, and the letter you sent me.”

All the colour drained out of the chief’s face. Politely, Kiku said nothing, pretending for the chief’s sake that the whole debacle had never happened. “Oh, well, um…” The village chief recovered hastily with a forced and very flustered cough. “You’d best come in then, hadn’t you?”

“Thank you very much,” Kiku said, glad that he was able to suppress his sigh of relief. He didn’t want the chief thinking him rude, after all.

“I must say,” the old man said with a soft shake of his head. “You have an awfully deep voice for a girl. I didn’t even know they _let_ girls become provincial governors nowadays.”

Kiku took a steadying and diplomatic breath. “Neither did I.”

* * *

“Thank you very much,” Kiku accepted the over-brewed cup of tea with less hesitation than he felt. Once the many, many misunderstandings had been resolved – and there had been a lot – the village chief had turned out to be a very hospitable and welcoming man – if a rather poor tea-brewer. The luxury drink now looked thick and murky. Kiku wondered if it was about to congeal.

He motioned for Kiku to sit down opposite him, in front of the _tokonoma,_ which was decorated with seasonal blossoms and a hanging scroll of dragonflies in flight. “I must apologise for earlier,” the chief began sincerely, bowing his head in contrition. “I… spoke out of turn.”

In the interest of avoiding conflict, Kiku did not meet his gaze, and bowed his head back in return. “It’s nothing. Please don’t trouble yourself on my account.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be a provincial governor, though?”

Kiku took a diplomatic sip of the ‘tea’. It tasted like mushrooms. “…Yes, I suppose. But please. Tell me about these pirates.”

A darker look of fatigue and disgust came across the old man’s face. “Oh, they’re simply terrible,” he lamented, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “It’s shocking. Dreadful!”

“…What exactly do they do?” Kiku asked with a mixture of concern and nervous curiosity. He could not help but feel a slight flicker of fear – pirates were dangerous, after all, and he had heard enough stories from his father and grandfather to know that they were ruthless and not afraid to kill. The fact that he would be going up against them, alone – none of his staff had been able to come with him, and he doubted any of the villagers would be willing to back him up – well, it was practically suicide. Coupled with the fact that he was barely just 5 _shaku_ high… If they decided to take a dislike to him, he probably wouldn’t stand a chance. But he had to face up to them, if only to live up to his role (or, more likely, die doing so). He wasn’t so foolish as to believe that preparation and knowledge could save him, but it never hurt to try, and sometimes, to be armed with knowledge was truly invaluable.

Meanwhile, the village chief struggled to find his words. When he finally spoke, it was in a trembling and wavering voice, as though he was scared that merely talking about the pirates would summon them. “Well… every night, just as soon as the last light in the village goes out…” he shook his head again, and then continued quietly. “As soon as all the lights go out, they start playing music. Loudly. We’ve been down to the beach to shout at them and tell them to stop, but they just get louder instead. And there’s only so many times you can hear the same sea shanty before you get sick of it. Poor old Fukuda-san down the road can’t sleep. Every time she manages to drop off, she wakes up singing the lyrics to ‘blow the man down’! It’s awful, and I don’t just mean her singing!”

“…I can see why that would be concerning.”

“And they haven’t paid their bill at Matsui-san’s restaurant, either! It’s despicable!”

Privately, Kiku wondered if there was something in the tea. Maybe that was why it tasted like fungi. “And… has anyone been hurt?”

The chief shook his head. “Not as far as I know. But it’s only a matter of time,” he said imploringly. “They must be dealt with!”

Kiku frowned down at his knees. It was going to be difficult to solve this. The villagers seemed set on nothing less than getting rid of the pirates, and he did agree that just because nothing had happened so far did not mean that nothing _would_ happen. But it was going to be awfully difficult to do anything at all armed with nothing but a noise complaint and an unpaid restaurant bill – somehow, he doubted that that would be enough to warrant even the application forms for an eviction notice.

“Well?” the village chief demanded. “What are you going to do about it?”

Kiku gave a weak smile. “Please leave it with me.”

* * *

Offshore, on the floating world that had always been his home, Captain Wang Yao sat on the poop deck of his junk, watching back across the deck and its familiar bustle of activity towards the open sea. It was another day of endless blue skies and white seabirds, and the water was crystal clear. He sighed in contentment. The breeze felt good.

“Captain!” It was his first mate, a well-intentioned but frankly uncontrollable Korean man called Yong-Soo.

Yao liked him – he was like a little brother, even – but preferred him in smaller doses than he was currently exposed to. _Maybe if I ignore him,_ he thought, _he’ll go away._

“Captain!”

 _Can’t I ever get five minutes to myself?_ He sighed, and forced himself to look over at his first mate, who was running over to him from the lower deck, waving his telescope very frantically indeed. He looked worried. Yao jumped to his feet. Yong-Soo _never_ looked worried. “What is it?”

“There’s a boat,” Yong-Soo garbled, half out of breath. “Really tiny, not that cool-looking, coming from the mainland.”

Yao turned around hurriedly to look in the direction of the shore. Sure enough, a small fishing boat was making its way towards them, slowly and clumsily, as though the person rowing was inexperienced and feeble. “Yong-Soo. Hand me your telescope.”

“…Okay.”

The world zoomed in to the tiny scene of the unnamed vessel. A sole person was on board, but from this distance, Yao could only see that they were fairly young and of a slim build. But it didn’t matter what sort of a person they were, he thought, handing the telescope back with a grin. Whoever came alone onto a pirate ship was a _fool._ “Well, Yong-Soo,” he said lightly, his smile spreading further over his face. “Looks like we’re in for some _fun._ I want everyone above deck.”

“Got it, captain!” his first mate saluted for no reason whatsoever, and then stopped. “But can’t it wait until I’ve got changed into something a bit more… fashionable?” He saw Yao’s withering glare and continued quickly, probably more defensively than he would have liked. “Alright, just a hat or something, then. If we’re going to have a _guest,_ I want to look my best.”

“You don’t even own a hat.”

“Yes, I do,” Yong-Soo protested. “You remember, that one I got in… oh, wherever it was we stopped off last. The one with the big flaps.” He waved his hands next to his ears to illustrate.

“Oh, that one! Wait, didn’t you _steal_ that?”

His first mate looked truly scandalised. “Of course not! It was a display model. I said I didn’t have enough money to pay for it, and they just let me have it.”

Yao raised an eyebrow.

“Honest!” Yong-Soo crossed his arms and nodded self-righteously. “They said – and I quote – ‘that’s alright, just put it back when you’ve finished with it’. I just haven’t finished with it yet.”

Some days, Yao wondered if he was the only sane one on the ship.

* * *

“Excuse me,” Kiku stepped up onto the ship with some effort and dusted himself off. A quick glance around the vessel showed the presence of at least thirty pirates, all of them leering at him and armed to the teeth. For a second, Kiku thought about checking that his sword was still there, even though he could feel its weight against his side. But it wouldn’t do to show fear – or anything that could be misconstrued as aggression – and he decided against it. Not that it would him much good anyway, not against thirty or so opponents and with his back to the open sea. No, in this case it would be better, and safer, to maintain his cool. “May I please speak with your captain on behalf of the village?”

Some of the pirates stirred, an almost hungry expression on their tanned and weather-beaten faces. “The captain, eh?” said one of the nearest ones, a young man with a flapped hat that was slightly too big for him. The price tag was still attached. “Well, let’s see about that, shall we? Boss! Someone here to speak to you!”

On the other side of the ship, a figure moved. “If it’s the captain they’re looking for,” came the voice, “then here he is.” The other crewmen turned to look as a young man, perhaps only a few years older than Kiku himself, turned away from the starboard rail and walked lazily and slowly towards him, as though he was enjoying making him wait. “Might I at least have the pleasure of knowing to whom I’m talking?”

Kiku got the distinct feeling that the educated tone was not being used for politeness. But it was unusual for a pirate to sound so well brought-up nonetheless, and for a brief second, Kiku met his eyes. They were shining and full of fire, but in an odd contrast that was probably unintentional (though you never could tell with pirate fashions), the left was encircled by a thick ring of black ink. With great difficulty, Kiku managed not to laugh, and it surprised him to see that some of the crew were giggling as well.

“My name is Honda Kiku,” he said, watching the crew and their captain closely for any signs that they might want to attack him. “I’m the provincial governor of Satsuma Province.”

A murmur of interest ran around the ship. From his position on the port side, Kiku caught several snatches of whispered conversation:

“They’re making _girls_ into provincial governors now?”

“Cute ones, too.”

“Deep voice she’s got, though.”

Throughout it all, the captain simply stood there, stunned. “Hello,” he said eventually, seeming to realise that he had been staring. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. Would you please do me a very important favour?”

Kiku looked at him curiously. He had to admit that he hadn’t expected things to start like this. “…What is it?” he asked, suspicious, wondering what would come of it.

The captain fished around in his sleeve, evidently looking for a pocket. Kiku felt himself tensing up. Was this what it looked like, or was it the beginnings of an attack? If it came to it, he could always jump overboard, and try to swim for shore – certainly, he had never swum in his life, but surely it couldn’t be _that_ hard, and the beach wasn’t that far…

But the attack never came. Instead the captain took a piece of paper out the pocket in his sleeve and handed it to him with both hands. “It’d mean a lot to me if you took this,” he said seriously, seeming to not understand why Kiku was hesitating. “It’s my details,” he said, grinning as Kiku took it. “Y’know, date of birth, family history, that sort of the thing. In case you’re _interested.”_

“Are you… _proposing_ to me?” Kiku asked, incredulous. Even if it was a mistake, proposing to a ‘woman’ yu had only just met was unheard of.

The captain grinned again, cheerfully and unthreateningly, his smile almost bordering on goofy. “Only if you’re saying yes.”

Kiku raised an eyebrow. “…I’m saying no.”

The other man’s face fell in a way that was all too real, coupled with a dreamy and lovelorn sigh. “Oh well,” he said wistfully. “You can’t blame me for trying, you know. You _are_ awfully cute.”

“Please stop.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Besides,” Kiku said with an unavoidable and weary sigh. “I’m a man.”

The captain shrugged. “I know. Ignore my crew; they’re all idiots.” Here Kiku saw several jaws drop in astonishment and insult. “But I’ve got to say,” he continued. “It makes no odds to me. I’m really not fussy.”

Kiku was shocked. Not scandalised, because that would imply that he felt some moral repulsion, or disgust. He felt none of that in the slightest – it was natural, after all, wasn’t it? But the fact that someone could be so _open_ about it, well… he shook his head.

“Oh, where are my manners?” the captain spared him the difficult to knowing what to think and how to respond. “I’m Wang Yao, captain of the finest ship on the seven seas! It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Honda Kiku-san.”

Kiku bowed politely, and then stopped to consider how odd that was, given that he was talking to a _pirate._ But the other man – and indeed his crew, for the most part – had been polite and receiving so far, and that deserved respect at least. Hostility would get him nowhere. “Your name,” he began cautiously. “Are you perhaps from China?”

“Yep,” the captain said proudly, gesturing grandly to himself with his thumb. “We’ve sailed a long way, through storms and high winds, all to get to this point. Impressive, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” Kiku said with a slight nod, pretending to be interested. When he stopped to think about it, he really _was_ impressed – as far as knew, no one took readily to open waters, not least without very good reason. “If you’re from China, may I please see your passport?”

The captain’s face fell, and then recovered quickly as he thought of a response. “I don’t have to present it unless I’m on Japanese territory,” he said, trying to feign an innocent tone.

“…This _is_ Japanese territory,” Kiku said levelly, without faltering. Accusations of illegal immigration would hold more sway over the pirates than a noise complaint, and hopefully he would be able to extend to them a choice that would, either way, work in the villagers’ favour: leave, or be arrested.

As always, nothing was that easy. “No, it’s not,” Wang Yao said, in a somewhat cheeky (and yet somehow ery endearing) tone. “These are international waters.”

If he had been alone, hearing this conversation from afar, Kiku would have smacked his head on something. “We’re not even one _ri_ from shore,” he said, a small measure of exasperation in his tone. He worked to quash it, not wanting to offend or upset the Chinese captain. “How can it not be Japanese territory?”

Wang Yao shrugged. “I don’t see your name on it anywhere.”

For the first time in his life, Honda Kiku was speechless, and not by choice.

The captain ignored his disbelief. “Here, Yong-Soo, lend me your telescope again and I’ll look.” The young pirate with the floppy hat stepped forward and presented his captain with a finally crafted brass telescope. The captain held the instrument up to his right eye and scanned the sea very quickly. “Nope, nothing. Sorry about that.”

He handed the telescope back and turned to face him. Kiku had to disguise his chuckle as a cough, and he saw that the other pirate was having the same problem too. A ring of ink now encircled the captain’s other eye.

“Anyway, what brings you here? Want to join our crew?” he winked cheerfully, oblivious to his eccentric accessorising. “Or am I so famous that you couldn’t wait to meet me and make my acquaintance?”

For a moment, Kiku wondered why he was having déjà vu. Then he remembered the village chief. “Neither of tho—“

“No, no, say no more, tales of our daring endeavours have reached even the backwater islands, and even the country’s provincial governors are lining up to be a part of my crew! Well, if you want to join, you’ve got to _prove_ that you’ve got what it takes to be a pirate on the open seas.” Around him, many of the crew members were nodding knowledgeably, arms folded and serious expressions on their faces.

Not for the first time that day, Kiku wished he hadn’t come. “As I was saying, I don’t—“

“ _If_ you want to join our crew,” the captain continued loftily, “then you must prove yourself in one of three ways. After all, being a pirate takes _courage_ and _zeal,_ not just a peg leg and a fancy hat.”

“I just want to—“

“So! You can: walk the plank – blindfolded! Jump into the sea – blindfolded! Or something else equally as courageous, I don’t mind.”

“…You’d leave it up to people to decide their own entrance test?”

“Of course,” the captain said, looking at him as though that was the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard. “We’re all about equal opportunities.”

Kiku got the odd impression that the other man was enjoying his speechlessness.

“So,” the Chinese man said brightly. “What’ll it be? Walking the plank? Jumping into the sea? Or something—“

“Please,” Kiku said, with more exasperation than he would have liked. “Shut up.”

* * *

A sudden gasp ran around the ship. Behind him, clustered in groups of twos or threes, Yao heard his crewmen exchanging shocked remarks of disbelief, looking between him and the provincial governor with fear and wonder. At the same time, a brief flash of fear flickered through the other man’s eyes, and Yao realised he was wondering whether he had just made a very stupid and costly mistake.

And indeed he had.

No one – _no one_ – had _ever_ spoken to him that way before – not with anger or frustration, but with _boredom_ and _indifference._ The idea that he could not have an effect on someone was a novel one, and, although he didn’t like to admit it, it made him curious. Who was this person, to speak to him as though he was _nothing,_ not even a threat?!

Well, Yao would not stand for it. Behind him, his crew echoed his thoughts:

“Uh-oh.”

“No one’s _ever_ spoken to the cap’n like _that_ before!”

“Who does that guy think he is?”

“If I were him, I’d start running. Now.”

“I keep telling you, she’s a girl.”

More than ready to prove his worth as a very fearsome pirate captain, Yao almost reached for his sword. Infuriatingly, there was no fear in the provincial governor’s eyes now, just coldness and stoic determination. It was unsettling. Who had no fear – or indeed managed to hide it – when they were about to engage in battle with a pirate?

There was something about that that was quite upsetting, actually. The governor was almost _too_ detached, and Yao got the impression that he needed, for his own sake, to lighten up a little – no, a lot. And Yao would have been honoured to take up the challenge.

Then, out of nowhere, a strange idea occurred to him: what if – _what if_ – this man had done it on _purpose_ , knowing that he would never be any good at walking the plank or survive jumping into the cold sea? Was he that desperate to join them?

Yao scrutinised the smaller man before him carefully. It really didn’t help that he was so cute.

 _Oh well,_ Yao thought, shrugging to himself and forgetting all about the insult. _I’ll let it slide. I need a good strategist anyway._

“Alright,” he said brightly. “You’re in!”

* * *

With very great difficulty, Kiku managed to take deep breaths and count to ten. The calming technique worked, somewhat. He didn’t necessarily feel at peace, but he did feel less frustrated, more centred. A small and unhelpful part of him, however, wondered exactly how long that would last. “Look, he said gently,” I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not here to join your crew.”

“What? But the why did you say all that stuff?” Wang Yao looked equally confused and heartbroken, and Kiku couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit bad, even though he had said absolutely nothing of the sort.

He held his hands up in a gesture that called for calm and peace. “I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea,” he began steadily, “but I’m not really intent on becoming a pirate. I’m here because the villagers are being disturbed, and would like you to leave.”

The captain’s face fell. “We’re… disturbing them? You mean like at night, with our sea shanties and hearty stories of the deep?”

Kiku blinked. “Yes. I think.”

“Oh no,” the captain looked genuinely upset. “We didn’t think we’d been _disturbing_ them! They used to come out with lanterns and stand on the shore and shout to us, so we thought they couldn’t hear but wanted to join in… And then we figured that maybe they didn’t know the lyrics, so we sung louder to teach them, and…”

He looked so distressed that Kiku couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth, or if he was just a very good actor.

The captain paused in his nervous ramblings. “Is there something wrong?”

“…It’s just a little odd to hear a pirate saying this sort of thing, that’s all.”

Wang Yao sniffed. “Well, we’re not like _those_ pirates who go around killing and raping and plundering.” He and several of the crew who were still lingering, eager to see how things turned out, suppressed a collective shiver. “Who’d want to do _that?_ That’s no fun. No, we’re adventuring pirates! All we really want is to explore the seven seas. We don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Kiku was starting to suspect that this was going to be stranger than he, or indeed anyone, had ever imagined. If _this_ didn’t go down in the history annuls, then nothing would. “What about the restaurant bill?”

“We left an IOU,” the captain replied, seemingly still crushed from the realisation that he had been terrorising the populace, not leading them in song. “When we find some treasure, we’ll come back and pay him then. I promise,” he said quickly on seeing Kiku’s expression of disbelief, “I’ve even got it on my list of debts to pay, see?” Here he fished another piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over. Written in very fine brushwork was, as promised, a list of establishments, and next to each of them, a sum of money. Several of them had been crossed through and dated.

Kiku resisted the urge to put his head in his hands. They were clearly very moral pirates, yes, but they were also clueless. “Alright,” he said eventually. “I believe you.”

The captain looked around at his crew happily. A surge of positivity seemed to flow through the deck. “That’s great! So you won’t make us go?”

He shook his head. “Unfortunately, I still have to ask you to leave.”

The pirates glanced around uncertainly before looking at their captain. Kiku paused. Something wasn’t quite right after all.

“We can’t do that,” the other man said eventually, a surprisingly heavy tone in his voice. “You see, I’m waiting for someone. It’s really important that I meet him here.”

“…You’re not doing something illegal?”

The pirates and their captain looked horrified. “Of course not! We don’t have anything _to_ trade, let alone anything we’d _want_ to trade with those idiots,” Wang Yao said. He saw Kiku’s slightly guarded puzzled look and continued. “I’m meeting an enemy of mine. We were racing here. And well, seeing as he’s not here yet I’ve won! And I want to be rubbing it in his face from his ship comes trundling over his horizon.”

Kiku said nothing. All of this – _all of this_ , the travelling, the ridiculous village chief, joining a pirate crew – all of it was down to a pirate race.

Unbelievable.

What he said out loud was: “that must be a very bitter rivalry.”

Wang Yao nodded self-righteously. “That’s why I can’t leave yet. We’ll stop singing the sea shanties at night, and we’ll even do work to pay off the restaurant bill if you like. But please don’t make us leave until he gets here.”

Kiku considered this carefully. There was no way of telling where this other ship was, obviously, and part of him wondered if it was just an excuse to stay there long-term. Who knew if this enemy ship even existed? But ironic as it sounded, he felt like the pirates could actually be trusted to keep their word, and although they were all frankly completely bonkers, it was better than having a bunch of murdering and pillaging thieves on your doorstep. “Will be there fighting when your enemy arrives?”

“I shouldn’t think so,” came the other man’s reply. “Probably some arguing, and a bit of shouting, but no one will get hurt, if that’s what you mean. So, can we stay?”

He sought for the right words in his head. He couldn’t very well say yes, and he could hardly say no now, either. “..I’ll think about it,” he said eventually.

Wang Yao never had time to react to that.

“Captain!” One of the pirates called out. “Captain, they’re coming! I can see black sails!”

The captain grinned delightedly. “Just you wait, Arthur.”

* * *

He stood with the Chinese captain at the bow of the ship, watching and waiting as the incoming vessel rolled slowly across the endless waves. The other pirates had mostly dispersed, gathering again in small groups to talk, play cards, or tell stories, evidently not at all interested in watching their captain’s showdown with his nemesis. Wang Yao took no notice of this whatsoever, remaining focused only on the arrival of his enemy. Kiku, sensing that now was not the best time to continue their conversation, and not really seeing the point in explaining something only to have to do so again to a new group of pirates, waited with him, his eyes on the horizon as he tried to forget about the stupidity of the day.

The ship drifted towards them further, the billowing sails like dark blots of ink across the sky. Kiku caught sight of many men dotted around the deck and high up in the rigging. They were busy, well-built, and heavily armed, and Kiku had the feeling that going up against them in combat would be fatally unwise. The sides of the ship were punctuated by the mouths of cannons fashioned in odd and grotesque caricatures of what Kiku thought might be monsters. A black flag flew above the figurehead, which was a bizarre wooden carving of a fish’s head with a woman’s legs.

The Chinese pirate bent down to whisper in his ear. “He thinks that’s what mermaids look like,” he said with a scoff. “Seriously. Stupid plank.”

The captain’s earlier assertion that there would be no fighting seemed far off and unreliable now, and not for the first time that day, Kiku realised how much danger he could possibly be in. If he had been up against _normal_ pirates, he would almost certainly have been drowned by now.

The huge vessel was closer still now, and Kiku caught snatches of a song on the wind. It was badly sung, repetitive, and in an odd language that he had never heard before, but Wang Yao evidently knew it, for he sang along under his breath in Chinese, and that was how Kiku learnt that it went like this:

_Oh, Whiskey is the life of man,  
 Always was since the world began._

_Whiskey made me pawn me clothes,  
  And Whiskey gave me me broken nose._

_Whiskey here and Whiskey there,_  
 I drink Whiskey everywhere!  
 Whiskey for me Johnny!

Kiku wondered why he wasn’t surprised. Maybe this whole stupid thing would have made more sense if he had been drunk.

* * *

The other ship pulled into port next to them with a final, resounding shudder. There was, for a second, a moment of quiet, and Kiku found himself desperately trying to hold on to it, as though he knew that it would break at any moment.

Sure enough, almost as soon as that fleeting notion had passed through his mind, the doors of the other ship’s hatches flew open with a loud bang. “Oi, Wang Yao!” a voice called in badly pronounced and heavily accented Chinese that was, to the untrained ear, completely incomprehensible. Kiku couldn’t yet see the rival captain, but could tell that he was, in some way or another, foreign. “Where are you, you stupid bastard?”

But just how foreign he was came as a shock. Kiku did a double take: a tall man, dressed very eccentrically and in a ridiculous hat strode into view, looking huffy and self-important. He was taller than any person Kiku had ever seen before, and had strangely pale skin, the likes of which Kiku had not heard of, even in stories. From the little of it that he could see, it seemed as though the messy hair poking out from under the enormous hat was sandy-gold, and although Kiku initially thought that that must have been impossible, it couldn’t have been, for huge clumps of the same colour bustled madly over his eyes, which were an unheard-of shade of green. For a moment, Kiku wondered what the hairy, wriggling masses actually were. Some sort of facial growth, perhaps? Then he realised that they were the other man’s eyebrows.

Stunned, he could not help but stare. He had never seen such a person before, with brightly coloured hair and eyes, and light skin. And the fact that he spoke _Chinese_ – to Kiku, it was all remarkable. Could he perhaps have been some sort of ethnic minority from the mainland?

“Hurry up, will you?” the grumpy foreigner said crossly, folding his arms as he came to stop opposite Wang Yao. “I haven’t got all sodding day.”

“Maybe you should have got here sooner then,” the Chinese captain said, a sing-song tone emerging in his voice. Kiku nearly jumped. He had been so caught up in his shock over the other man’s appearance that he had nearly forgotten that the Chinese was there. “I was beginning to wonder whether you were even going to show up. We’ve only been waiting, oh, about a week or so.”

“Good for fucking you,” the other man drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Kiku could still not take his eyes off him. Then the other man started to laugh.

Wang Yao looked at him curiously. “What is it?”

“I like your glasses,” the foreigner said with a titter, making stupid circular motions around his eyes. Kiku looked at Yao, and then realised what the other man meant with a small and barely suppressed laugh. He had forgotten about the ink rings.

The Chinese captain’s hand shot up to touch under his eyes, his fingers smudging the ink around them. For a second, Kiku thought he was going to get angry – the surprise in his eyes showed that he had never even known about them, and Kiku doubted that he would enjoy being shown up like that. But then he grinned, as though he had just had a flash of inspiration. “Oh, these? Thanks! I was trying to find something as stupid as your eyebrows, but that’s never going to happen.”

“Ha! You see, I told you – wait,” the foreigner seemed torn between being triumphant and offended. “You take that back! These eyebrows are the fashion statement of the century!”

Kiku and Yao exchanged a wordless and concerned glance, silently questioning whether or not he was aware of just how wrong he was. “Whatever,” Yao called back. “Anyway, _I_ won the race. It’s time for you to admit it. I’m the best pirate.”

The other man scoffed in indignation. “Yeah, right! Hell will freeze over before I admit _that.”_

“I won fair and square,” Yao complained, and Kiku was somehow not surprised to be reminded of a sulking child. “I got to Japan first. Now keep up your side of the bargain!”

“Well, that’s hardly bloody fair, is it?” the other pirate ‘tsked’ and ‘hmphed’ loudly. “ _You_ only came here from China! _I_ had to sail all the way from sodding England!” Kiku blinked, wondering where on earth ‘sodding England’ was.

“Doesn’t matter,” the Chinese captain replied indignantly. “ _You_ were the greatest pirate when you got to Ireland first, and _that_ was only a stone’s throw away for you. So just admit that I’m the greatest pirate this time around and we’ll race again.”

Kiku looked around at the crew. No wonder they were sick of it. Was this all the captains ever did? Race and bicker like five-year-olds?

The other captain held up his hands in supposed defeat. Yao looked elated, but deep down, Kiku knew that it would not be that simple. Nothing ever was these days, and these pirates were living proof of that. “Alright,” the other man began slowly. “I’ll admit it. I’m the greatest pirate.”

Yao looked stunned. “Fuck you!”

“No, fuck _you!”_

“I said fuck you first!”

“Twat!”

“Twit!”

Kiku shook his head. It was only in his ignorance that he had likened them to five-year-olds, and now he saw that it was worse than that. Children probably would have been easier to deal with, and he was a terrible babysitter.

“I’m not talking to you any more,” Yao shouted to his counterpart, sticking his tongue out and turning his back on him.

“Well, good, because I’m not talking to _you_ any more either!”

A sudden silence echoed across the waves. Kiku, however, who prided himself on being a fairly perceptive person, was aware that despite the pirates’ assertions of undying hatred and childlike disassociation, they would be bickering again within the minute. But, he thought, here he had the chance to turn the tables in his favour, to get their attention and – hopefully – get them to leave. And he had come so far and put up with so much that really, he was not going to let that opportunity slip by.

“Excuse me,” he called to the foreign pirate in his best Chinese. Both Wang Yao and the foreign man turned to look at him, and Kiku felt a momentary hint of hesitation. He really wasn’t used to having all eyes on him, and it made him nervous. But it was pointless to back out now, and if it did get rid of the pirates, then he would accept the embarrassment any day. “Excuse me, but may I talk to you for a while?”

“You already are, you twat,” the foreigner said, rolling his eyes and then stopping to look at him more closely. “Oh! I’m ever so sorry, miss,” he said in a hurried and suddenly polite apology. “I thought you were one of _his_ lot. Hey, Yao, I had no idea you were so short on numbers that you had to hire _girls_ now. Must be because no one likes you. Deep voice she’s got, though.”

Kiku did not laugh. This witty and ingenious observation had stopped being funny the first time it was said. For a second, he considered correcting him, but then thought better of it. It would only be wasted energy, and at the end of the day no one believed him anyway.

Of course, Wang Yao had other ideas. “He’s a man,” he called out, meeting Kiku’s eyes in what Kiku thought was supposed to be encouragement.

The foreigner looked between him and Yao several times before setting eyes on him for good, squinting as though to appraise him better. Then he burst into laughter.

Somehow, that was the biggest insult of the day.

“I’ll prove it to you if you like.”

Kiku turned to face Yao, shocked. “You most certainly will not!”

The foreigner nodded in amusement. “Go on, then,” he said with a giggle. “Prove it, and we’ll see who’s right.”

Still speechless from disbelief, Kiku could only manage to shake his head. There was always _some_ way for things to go wrong, and that way was called Wang Yao.

“Well, how about this,” the Chinese captain began steadily. Kiku looked at him out of the corner of his eye with only the slightest hint of suspicion. Mostly, he just felt resignation. This suggestion was bound to be as idiotic as the last. “I’ll show you my passport if you show us that you’re a boy.”

And he said it seriously, too.

“I’m going to arrest you if you keep this up,” Kiku said, only managing to sound serious because he actually meant it. And even if he _didn’t_ end up arresting the Chinese captain, the least the threat might do was remind Wang Yao who he was, and of the authority he was (supposed) to hold.

Wang Yao waggled his eyebrows instead, undeterred. “Kinky.”

Very pleasantly, Kiku smiled. The amusement faded from Yao’s eyes in an instant, along with his over-demonstrated hubris. “I’m sorry. Why don’t you prove it to just me, then? Seeing as you agreed to marry me.”

“I did no such thing,” he said coolly, trying to resettle his composure.

Yao looked at him like he had gone mad. “Yes, you did,” he said with a small laugh. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already. You accepted my personal details, remember?”

“That’s because I didn’t know they were your details when I took them,” Kiku said patiently, even as he wondered where his reserves of tolerance were coming from. “I’m sorry, but—“

“You know,” the Chinese captain admonished gently, “you really should read things before you accept them. Surely that’s part of your job?”

Kiku’s smile was not one of amusement.

“Are you two done having your lover’s tiff yet?” called the foreign man. “I’m bored.”

“Not yet,” Yao called out at the same time as he said: “We’re not lovers.”

The Chinese man turned to look at him, a stricken and desperate look on his face. “You’re breaking up with me?” he panicked. “But we were going to get married! Is it because I’m not good enough? Is there someone else?”

“No,” Kiku said, not quite sure why he was indulging him. “There’s no one else.”

“Then,” the Chinese man fretted anxiously, wringing his hands, “why don’t you love me any more?”

He looked the other man in the eyes. “It’s not really a case of ‘any more’,” he said, not breaking eye contact to make sure that Wang Yao understood.

“Oh,” the Chinese man said, very sadly, lowering his gaze to look at the deck of his ship.

Kiku felt bad. He had never earnt anyone’s affections before, and, his parents being dead, he had never been arranged to marry, either. He had never learnt how to deal with people’s feelings, and even though they were a mystery to him, he had never wanted to upset anybody, either. “It’s okay,” he said, trying to sound comforting and aware of just how much he was failing. “You’ll find someone eventually.”

Wang Yao said nothing.

“And you know,” he continued, very uncertain as to what he was saying, “you’ve never really given me the _chance_ to get to know you. I can’t say I love someone I’ve only just met, can I?”

Wang Yao’s whisper was like a mouthful of tears. “I suppose not.”

“So, um, I think what I’m trying to say is that you can’t just assume that people will fall in love with you instantly. You have to give them time.”

The Chinese man met his eyes very briefly. “So… you’re not adverse to me completely, then?”

Kiku shifted from foot to foot. He wasn’t sure if Wang Yao was just hopelessly devoted or just hopelessly stupid. It was probably both. “…I’ll, um, think about it.”

“Gaaaay!” The foreign man’s voice broke into the conversation without warning.

“Oh, I’m ever so sorry,” Kiku turned back to the pirate and found himself apologising again. “Please forgive my rudeness; I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. I’m the provincial governor, and—“

“Don’t be unctuous, lad,” the grumpy-sounding foreigner said, cutting in and admonishing him in a tone that was probably more befitting when used towards a five-year-old, which, Kiku thought, was highly ironic. “If you even _are_ a lad.”

He smiled thinly. His patience was at its limit. And seeing as he couldn’t just be rude back, he was going to do the next best thing: be polite. “Please,” he began, almost with a hint of enjoyment in his voice, “you must forgive my so terribly unsavoury manner.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wang Yao looking at him, perhaps out of surprise, perhaps out of admiration. The foreign pirate, meanwhile, scrutinised him closely, as though unable to tell whether he was being unctuous purely because he didn’t know what the term was, or if he was being unctuous purely because he _did_ know what the term was, and looking like he was unable to decide what was worst. “And don’t use two adverbs either!” he said haughtily, as though testing him. “It’s in bad taste, and besides, it’s redundant.”

“Oh, I’m really most sorry. Or was that a superlative?”

The foreigner was dumb-founded. His mouth opened and closed like a surprised fish. Yao, on the sidelines, saw this look and grinned. Kiku could not have known that the Chinese man’s adoration of him had grown ten-fold.

Kiku took a steadying breath and carried on. It was now or never. “As I was saying, I’m the provincial governor, and I’m afraid that I’ve had to come on the villagers’ behalf to ask you to leave.”

The foreign captain looked shocked. “Leave? _Leave?_ But I’ve only just got here! We need to restock our supplies! What am I meant to feed my men? I’ve come all the way from bloody _England._ Do you even know where that is? It’s in _Europe,_ for crying out loud.”

Kiku considered this carefully. He hadn’t a clue what the other man meant by ‘bloody England’ – indeed, Kiku thought he had said he came from _sodding_ England, but he supposed there wasn’t much difference – or by Europe, but it was nonetheless true that he couldn’t just send them away without any food for their journey. Like all Japanese, he feared the sea, and he could empathise with the pirates’ hopes for a little more security on it.

But it was an uncompromising dilemma: to allow them into the village would incur the wrath of the villagers. But to _not_ let them resupply might incur the pirates’ wrath, and then it was not certain that the village would be safe.

“…Alright,” he said finally, “I’ll allow that.” He looked at Wang Yao before anything could get out of hand again. “For _both_ ships, before either of you say anything. But I must ask you to please be respectful of the villagers, and to leave when you’re done.”

The two captains exchanged glances. “Can’t say fairer than that, I suppose,” the foreigner said, and Yao nodded in agreement.

As much as Kiku wanted to feel relief, he knew it was too soon to relax. He still had to explain himself to the villagers, and then he had to make sure that the pirates actually kept to their word and left. But, he thought, taking a look at the pink-tinged horizon, the end was in sight.

And sometimes, that was enough.

* * *

“What is the meaning of this?” the village chief stumbled onto the beach as the two crews worked to restock their ships, passing barrels from one pirate to the next in their two orderly lines. Kiku stood between them, watching carefully for any signs of trouble. The two captains were elsewhere: the foreign captain – Arthur, as he was called – had found himself a group of fans, both men and women, who were constantly admiring his exotic appearance and fawning over his every move; and Wang Yao was off trying to repay his debt to the restaurant owner in the form of culinary tuition. The villagers had been wary at first, but insofar the pirates had been perfectly behaved.

But for the village chief, that was not enough. “Honda-san! What on earth is going on? I thought you were going to get _rid_ of the pirates, not invite them onto our land! What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

“Please, sir, it’s not quite as bad as you think,” he explained patiently, glad to be back on dry land and among more realistic concerns as opposed to those of pirate honour. “There have been a lot of misunderstandings, but they won’t be bothering you again, I can assure you. They’re just stocking up, and then they will be leaving.”

The village chief tried to think of something to say in response. In the end, unable to criticise the work of a superior, even if that superior was fifty years younger than him, he settled for shaking his head and sighing. Evidently he was as worn out as Kiku felt. “That’d better be the case, Honda-san.”

“It will be.”

The crews were already finishing as it was, the last of the pirates heading back to shore in one of their small rowboats. And the captains were returning as well, Arthur surrounded by a group of adoring fans and Yao by a group of happy and excited children, who were taking it in turns to ride on his legs and arms.

Sometimes, Kiku thought it best not to ask.

“You’re all set then,” he asked the captains as they came closer, the two groups of followers looking simultaneously disappointed, and accordingly, dispersing. “To leave, I mean.”

“Yep, all set,” Yao patted the last remaining child on the head before he left.

“There is one thing though,” Arthur began thoughtfully, and for a moment, Kiku felt his heart sink. Nothing was ever easy, was it?

“What is it?” he asked.

“Well,” the foreigner said, scratching his ginormous eyebrow. “It’s just that we still don’t know where we’re racing to next. We haven’t really discussed it.”

Kiku hesitated. The idea that had been sitting in the back of his mind was a good one, but it wasn’t a very nice one, either. But it would be better than having to deal with another argument, and so he took his chance: “I’ve got an idea, if I may,” he said quickly, “do you see that island on the horizon?”

Yao and Arthur turned to look, standing on tiptoes and shielding their eyes from the sunset to try and see more clearly. “Whereabouts?”

“Just to the left of Arthur-san’s ship. There, see?” he pointed in the general direction of the horizon. The two captains exchanged a glance, not quite sure if they were looking stupid in front of the other. “You don’t mean to tell me the two greatest pirates in the world can’t see a simple island,” Kiku said, pretending to laugh. “Right there, see it?”

“Oh, I see it, yes!” said one captain.

“Must have just been the sun in my eyes,” laughed the other.

“Why don’t you try there then?” he suggested. “It’s close enough for you to see which one of you is best after all.”

The two captains nodded thoughtfully. “Alright. Agreed!”

“It’s a race.”

Kiku smiled. There was nothing like a job well done.

“But,” Wang Yao said, looking up at the sky. “It _is_ rather late. We can’t see to navigate in the dark. Would it be alright if we left tomorrow?”

Both of them turned to him, looking for his approval. Kiku thought about this and nodded. With any luck, they would be too set on the race to bother the townspeople any longer. “Alright then. But no sea shanties, remember.”

The two captains laughed good-naturedly. “Have it your way, governor,” Arthur said, turning to his small rowboat and climbing in. “I’m going to head back. We’ll have a busy day tomorrow.” He hesitated, and then extended a hand towards him. Kiku, who had never seen a handshake in his life, looked at him curiously, and then took his hand. It was a warm feeling. “It was nice to meet you,” the foreigner said, “and I hope we can meet again.”

Kiku was touched. “Yes,” he said, and was surprised to find he was sincere. “And under better circumstances than these, hopefully.”

“And you watch out if you shack up with that loser,” Arthur jerked his head towards Yao. “He farts in his sleep.”

Yao looked horrified. “I do _not!”_

Kiku smiled. Arthur took off into the sea, rowing steadily and more easily than Kiku could ever hope to do. As he ascended into his ship, he waved. Kiku waved back, and then he was gone.

Wang Yao, though, remained by his side. “I just wanted to say,” he shuffled his feet in the sand. “You’re a really good provincial governor, you know.”

He scoffed, and looked away. Now _that_ was a joke.

“I mean it,” Yao said earnestly. “I mean, you braved coming onto a pirate ship, alone I might add, and put up with that stupid idiot, and you never lost your temper once. All to help these people out. That’s pretty great, you know.”

“Well,” he said, not really sure how to respond. “I’m not really that great… I’ve only just started out, and it wasn’t by choice, but rather chance…”

The Chinese man waved off his concerns with a laugh. “No, I mean it. You’re great. And you’re _definitely_ the best-looking.”

It was Kiku’s turn to laugh, but his was not really happy, nor confident, unlike the pirate’s. Something was strange about this conversation, he realised, and for a second, he struggled to put his finger on it. Then it struck him. “Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m a little young to be a provincial governor?”

Now it was the captain’s turn to look bewildered. “Of course not. I’m about the same age as you, and I’m a captain.” Kiku blinked in surprise. He hadn’t considered this, but of course it was true, and somehow this captain had more respect from his crew of tearaways and rogues than Kiku did from his honest and hard-working staff. “Don’t put yourself down,” the captain said kindly. “You’re still in your position, so you must be doing something right. The key to getting respect is to respect yourself. If you start thinking you’re not good enough for the job, other people will start believing that too.”

Kiku looked away awkwardly. He didn’t really know how to respond to that; to any of this. In all truthfulness, he had expected to come here and be antagonised and attacked, not encouraged. But he supposed that that just went to show that perceptions were misleading. And how ironic it all was; of all the people he’d met – his own staff, the village chief, even a foreigner from another _continent_ – out of all of those, the only one to believe in his was a slightly grubby but still rather handsome Chinese pirate captain. He didn’t even believe in himself.

“…Thank you,” he said quietly, not quite able to meet Wang Yao’s eyes.

Wang Yao gave a dismissive and unconcerned wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Y’know, you really need to learn how to relax. When was the last time you went on holiday?”

Kiku looked at him pointedly. After a second or so of confusion, the captain’s face cleared in understanding. “…Oh. Well then, why don’t you come with us? We’re not going far.”

“Thank you for the offer,” he said, more sadly than he would have liked, “but I think I’ll have to get back to work. It was nice to meet you, though.”

“Yeah,” Wang Yao’s tone was surprisingly hollow. “It was nice to meet you, too.” The Chinese man climbed into his own little boat and took up the oars before looking away at the sky, as though thinking twice about leaving. “Wait,” he said suddenly, turning back to face him. “Can I change my answer?”

Kiku looked at him quizzically. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean, it’s not that you’re too young to be a provincial governor. But you’re too young to be working yourself like you do.”

He hesitated, the Chinese man’s words heavy on his heart. “I know. But there are always things to be done. Papers to be signed, policies to be implemented, proposals to approve, taxes to allocate… The world doesn’t stop for me, you know.”

The pirate considered this carefully. “But even so, that doesn’t mean that you have to go around stopping for the world.” Kiku looked down at the waves churning and twisting in front of him. He was as much of a mess as they were. “Come here,” Wang Yao said kindly. “I want to show you something.”

Kiku thought about what to do, and then took a step into the boat. It was already dusk, and it wasn’t like he would be able to travel anywhere as it was. There was nothing to be lost. “Sit, sit,” Kiku hesitated to join him, unsteady on his feet in the little vessel. “Oh, come on,” the pirate rolled his eyes jokingly. “I’m not going to do anything.”

Half-reluctantly, Kiku sat down onto the smooth wood of the little pew. “See?” Yao pointed up at the sky. It was a painted mixture of purples and blues, and in the far, far distance, the dying edges of the sun painted the horizon pink. Pinpricks of silver stars were beginning to show, and off somewhere watching over a distant island, the moon shone white. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Kiku nodded, then realised that captain was not looking at him to see. But speaking was somehow very hard, and he didn’t know if he would be able to manage it.

“Sometimes, this is all I really want to do,” Wang Yao confessed, as comfortably as if he were in his own company. “Just sit here, and look at it all.”

“I never really thought I’d be any good at being a governor,” Kiku said suddenly, and then wondered where those words had come from, and why they had chosen to surface now, to someone he hardly knew.

Yao patted his arm consolingly even as he tried to apologise. “It’s okay. You know, I was brought up really well. But my parents had such high expectations that I kind of went off the rails. Not in a _bad_ way. I just… did _this_ instead. I still don’t know if I’m just running away, or if this really gives me meaning, but… well.” He trailed off with a nervous laugh and a little shrug.

“Respectfully,” Kiku began, and meant it, too, “if you’re not running away from that pressure, why do you still feel the need to prove that you’re the best?”

“Well,” the captain said distantly. “I never thought of it like that. But what I mean is… I know where you’re coming from, okay?”

He nodded again. Part of him wanted to hide, and shield himself from the light of the moon and his own lies.

“Don’t worry so much,” the captain continued, perhaps aware of how vulnerable he was feeling. “And relax. Sometimes, doing nothing is better than doing too much. So don’t beat yourself up for not doing as much as you’d like, or you’ll grow old before you ever really had the chance to be young. You’ll get there in the end. Papers and policies don’t run away. But memories, and people – now those things do. And they’re always the things that matter more.”

Kiku tried very hard not to make a noise.

“So when you want to relax,” Wang Yao said kindly, “just look up, and you’ll think of me.” He saw Kiku looking and smiled. “Why? Because I’ll always, always be looking up at the same moon as you.”

* * *

That morning, Kiku returned to be beach where the two ships had been anchored. It was empty now, and unspoilt, and the calm of the sea rolled back and forth in comforting sighs, as endless as time. He looked up. The faintest trace of the moon hung in the morning sky.

Very sadly, Kiku smiled.

* * *

“Sir,” one of his members of staff poked their head around the door, bowing as he looked up from his paper work. “There’s a man here to see you. He’s asking if you’ve had time to consider his proposal.”

Kiku looked at the administrator quizzically. There _weren’t_ any proposals to consider; the office had been void of those – thankfully – since two or three weeks ago. And since then, nothing new had been submitted. He couldn’t even remember the last hare-brained scheme he had had to turn down.

The staff member looked just as confused as he was. “I’ve got no idea, sir. But he said he submitted it to you directly, if that helps.”

It did not. Kiku couldn’t think of anyone like that.

“Shall I show him in, sir? It might be easier that way/”

“It’s alright,” Kiku said, getting to his feet. To accept the person in might be misconstrued as a sign of approval. “I’ll go out and meet them. Thank you for your hard work, Ishida-san.”

Kiku took his time on the short walk to the reception, relishing the chance to stretch his legs. Things were quiet now in Satsuma Province, and although times were always hard, they hadn’t been this easy in a long while, either. Taxes were stable, the people were happy, and there had been no natural disasters save for a spot of flooding in one region up north, but even that was under control. All in all, although he was still overworked and under-appreciated, Kiku felt a sense of peace.

Wang Yao was sitting in his reception.

“Honda-san!” the Chinese man jumped to his feet and smiled. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes,” Kiku said, feeling more than a little numb. “It’s been a long time.” He took a deep breath, looking the Chinese man up and down. He was still just as he remembered him, and honestly, Kiku was not sure if that was a good thing or not. “How have you been, Wang-san?”

The Chinese man’s smile turned into a beam. “Good! I patched things up with my parents, and I’m not really so sure if I want to be a pirate forever any more. Instead, I might set up a shipping business cum nautical theatre group.”

Kiku laughed aloud, and then stopped. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” He watched Yao carefully, but there was no reaction.

“Nah, I’m just teasing,” the Chinese man said eventually. “I just thought I’d do it your way for once.”

“My way?” Kiku was puzzled.

“Oh, you know, that island you told us about—“

“Oh, yes. That. I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Yao could not stop smiling, seemingly overjoyed just from having seen him again. “It gave us both a great laugh. It was very sneaky, though. And so we decided to concede the title of greatest pirate ever to you.”

He gave a feeble laugh. “…Thank you. How is Arthur-san?”

Yao waved his hand as though to clear the room of a particularly unpleasant odour. “As pungent as ever.”

They shared a little smile between them, each not sure what next to say. Yao was the one to break the silence, looking down at him softly, in a way that Kiku had never seen before. “I take it you coming out to see me means that you look favourably on my proposal, then.”

“There seems to be some sort of misunderstanding,” Kiku said hesitantly. “I thought perhaps you were someone else, a citizen, you know.”

“That’s unfair, Honda Kiku,” Yao said with a very inviting smile, leaning in close to him. “I’ve only been gone six months, and you’re already cheating on me. Have you forgotten me already?”

Now Kiku was reminded why he hadn’t missed his pirate friends. “Please stop,” he said with a shake of his head, terrible flashbacks of that god-forsaken day coming back into his mind.

“Make me.”

Kiku supposed he should have seen that coming. “And how am I meant to do that?” he asked, meeting the pirate’s eyes with a stern gaze. “You don’t listen to me as it is.”

“Why don’t you try punching me,” Yao suggested out of the blue, his tone light and innocent. “In the mouth. With your mouth.” Kiku looked at him, very confused.

“Excuse me?”

“Very gently, and preferably for prolonged periods of time.”

“…You have strange hobbies where you’re from, don’t you?” he said, looking Yao up and down like he was mad. “Isn’t that just head-butting?”

The Chinese man smiled again. For some reason, Kiku found it hard to meet his gaze. “Here. I’ll show you.”

They drew apart softly, Yao lingering by his cheek, his hand resting on his arm. “Oh,” Kiku said, suddenly understanding, but not really sure what else to say. “Oh.”

“You’ve grown, you know.” Yao said pleasantly.

“And you haven’t changed a bit.” Yao’s hair tickled his cheek. “It’s good to see you again, Wang-san.”

“Are you still too busy to accompany an old friend?”

Kiku thought about the never-dwindling stack of paperwork on his desk. “Yes,” he said, meeting Yao’s dark eyes. “Let's go."

**Author's Note:**

> It's been good to write again. Hopefully this bout of inspiration stays with me, because there's loads I actually want to write. 
> 
> On another note, please let it be known that Arthur has a sticker on the back of his ship: 'my other galleon is a destroyer'. Anyway, if you read, and enjoyed - or didn't! - please feel free to let me know how I did; it'd be much appreciated.


End file.
